From The Land Of No Return
by readersdigest
Summary: Bones SPN crossover. S.A Booth has been handed the Winchester case after Henricksen & team dies in Colorado. Shortly after, Dean is caught in D.C alone trespassing. What's going on? Where's Sam? HurtComfort Friendship Angst Booth Bones Dean Bobby Ellen
1. Chapter 1

_A Supernatural and Bones Crossover_

**Featuring:** Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen and Joanna Beth (Jo) Harvelle, Ash, Victor Henricksen, Special Agent Seeley Booth, Dr. Temperance Brennan, Dr. Camille Saroyan, Dr. Jack Hodgins, Dr. Zack Addy, Angela Montenegro and Caroline Julian (works with Booth/Bones as prosecution).

I do not guarantee that all characters will be portrayed exactly as they are in their shows, but every attempt is made to keep it within a believable range.

**Story begins late 2008.**

**Rating:** OT- older teen, 15 years and over is preferable. You've been warned.

**Warnings:** Possible bad language, supernatural themes, violence, possible graphic description of disturbing scenes/crime scenes/events, angst, possible discussion of suicidal tendencies/PTSD (posttraumatic stress disorder) and related themes. Little to no romance and no new romantic pairings. This will not be an 'everyone falls in love, gets married and is happy' kind of story.

**TIMELINE / BACKSTORY:**

**SPN: **Everything up until Dean coming back from Hell is mostly the same, but the Crossroads demon doesn't get killed. When Dean is rescued from Hell six months after his 'death' the Crossroads demon takes his rising as a 'breach in contract' and kills Sam. Riddled with grief, guilt and flashbacks from Hell (literally), Dean stays with Bobby and Ellen briefly at their insistence before returning to the Hunt, seeing it as pretty much all he has left now. After several confrontations with the angel who was responsible for pulling him from hell, Dean makes it clear to Castiel that he won't be their 'god damned puppet' and tells him if he wants to fight in the 'War' then he can do it his damned self. Castiel makes several attempts to force Dean to assist him, but eventually realizes pulling superiority or his rank as an angel means nothing to Dean.

He strikes a compromise of sorts, much to the disapproval of the others, and makes Dean aware of major demonic movements and upcoming catastrophes when he can, trying to nudge Dean towards helping them. Though it doesn't always (or often) work, Dean still accomplishes a lot of good, going from hunt to hunt.

Though Lillith and her merry band of demons are wreaking havoc trying to open the seals, they have (as of yet) not managed to do so- the Angels and Hunters having been able to stop them thus far. Just before Dean is caught, Castiel revealed that a major reason for this is because, unlike it was prophesized, a 'righteous man' did not fall from grace into the hand of darkness. He explains that they had expected him to give in during the torture he received from Alastair and torture souls to escape being tortured himself. Because he did not give in, suffering through decades of torture in Hell at the hands of the demon Alastair, the first seal was not broken, leaving Lillith with her (considerably) smaller yet still terrible army of demons frustrated and having to try to find a way to break the First Seal themselves.

**BONES:** Season One and Two of Bones is prior to commencement of story (based in late 2008, early 2009), but no guarantees about anything other than/after that. Zack is still working at the Jeffersonian Institute.

**DATES**

2001- Sam goes to Stanford

2005- Dean collects Sam (October 31), Jess dies (Nov 2)

2006- March, the first Shape shifter incident, Dean officially labeled dead.

2006- a couple of months after shape shifter, serial killer family 'The Benders' in Hibbing, Minnesota, Dean teams up with female cop.

2006- October, boys arrested in Baltimore. They escape with help of female cop Diana Ballard when it turns out her partner; Peter Sheridan is a lying, murderous bastard.

2007- January- Milwaukee shape shifter (bank robbery).

2007- December(or November) Boys arrested by Henricksen, kept in Colorado jail, attacked by army of demons, Henricksen believes them (after being saved from possession), agrees to pronounce them dead (again) in helicopter explosion. Boys leave, Henricksen killed by Lillith, who appears as a little girl. Cause of Death labeled 'gas explosion'.

2008-May 2nd Dean goes to Hell, dragged by Hellhounds.

2008- November- Dean pulled from Hell six months later; Crossroads demon (not dead) takes this as a 'breach of contract' and kills Sam.

**Present**- Presumably on a hunt or something in D.C., Dean is 'taken downtown' after being caught trespassing. Booth has just been handed the Winchester case files.

Booth and Bones will have been working together for two or so years by the beginning of this story.

**CAST**

_Special Agent Seeley Booth_- former Sniper for the U.S Army Rangers, has shot upwards of 50 people in line of duty according to him (in discussion with Dr, Gordan Gordan Wyatt, he states Epps as his 50th kill). Has a brother who has an alcohol problem (younger: Jared) and his father was an abusive alcoholic (occupation: Barber).

_Dr. Temperance 'Bones' Brennan_- primary Forensic Anthropologist, is brilliant at her work and a successful novelist. Has a somewhat dysfunctional relationship with her remaining family (former/current/sometimes criminal father Max Brennan and small time occasional crook older brother (by four years) Russell "Russ" Brennan).

_Dr Zack (Zackary Uriah) Addy-_ former grad student of Brennan, recently completed both his doctorates- in forensic anthropology and engineering. Comes from a large family in Michigan (3 brother, 4 sisters). Is socially inept and awkward, likes sci-fi stuff (a lot!) including stargate, star wars, etc.

_Angela Montenegro_- artist & forensic facial reconstruction specialist. Works with bone tissue markers on skulls supplied by Brennan to recreate a person's approximate appearance. Also uses "Angelator" to recreate crime scenes and cause of death scenarios. Is rather flirty, quite social and a bisexual. Father is Billy Gibbons from ZZTop.

_Dr. Camille Saroyan_- Former coroner of NY State, former police officer, coroner and pathologist. Deals with the 'fleshy' parts and bodies.

_Dr. Jack Hodgins_- entomologist (bug and slime guy) and mineralogist- deals with particulates, etc. Is sole heir to Cantilever group (which is run by a board, leaving Hodgins free to be himself). Is big on conspiracies (and has the money to investigate/know about the more factual ones) and at least a little paranoid.

_Dr. Lance Sweets-_ psychologist/profiler for the FBI, studies Booth and Brennan's partnership. Adopted, he was abused (whipped/beaten) until adopted by an older couple when he was 6, who died just before he started working with Booth and Brennan.

_Dean Winchester_ – Hunter. Shows proficiency with all firearms, martial arts/mixed combat, medical knowledge at least to a corpsman level (medic), knowledge of evasion & escape, reverse engineering & electronics, tracking, mapping, planning. Intimate knowledge regarding mechanics as shown by meticulous care for Impala. Naive/not knowledgeable in a lot of 'normal life' stuff- frequently expressed confusion over such things as 'myspace' etc. Realistically, since the age of four, he appears to have been living on the fringe of both normal society and the Hunting society (shown by lack of knowledge of such a wide network of hunters, John apparently kept them away from other Hunters fairly often, only allowing them knowledge of those chose- Pastor Jim Murphy, Caleb, Bobby Singer ('Uncle Bobby') and so on, though it can be assumed from his late teens onwards (since he was given the Impala) Dean has delved into the Hunting world himself, possibly making his own contacts, etc.).

Any and all spelling/grammar errors are mine as this is unbeta'd.

* * *

**From The Land of No Return**

* * *

**1**

* * *

Dean sat on the hard, cold steel bench seat, leaning forward so he could rest his head on his arms, placed on the equally cold steel table before him, though the cold temperature was more of a relief than a burden, helping to ease the pounding inside his skull just a little.

He'd been here for who knows how long, and, aside form the officers who brought him here and dumped him in the room and the guard who'd taken him, every two hours to the restroom (shackled), he'd seen no one.

* * *

When Seeley Booth had been handed the case files for one Dean Winchester, his first reaction was 'oh crap'. For a moment, he'd thought he'd be forced to work in 'co-operation' with the case's lead agent, Victor Henricksen. He hadn't met the man, but the rumor mill of the FBI painted him as bulldog when it came to his cases.

When he was told (by the director, no less) that he was being given full charge of the case due to the team's untimely deaths in Colorado where the focus of all the files- one Dean Winchester had been being held (and, according to a report made by Henricksen only hours before his death, he'd died (again) in a helicopter explosion that preceded the 'gas explosion' that killed Henricksen), he'd felt a little guilty about his thoughts of working with Henricksen, but the guilt was quickly forgotten as he read through the files.

Dean Winchester, son of Mary and John Winchester, born 24th January 1979, Lawrence, Kansas. Mother dies in a house fire, November 2nd, 1983, when Dean was four years old, his younger brother, Samuel, barely 6 months. Not long after that, the father, John appeared for all concerned to have dropped off the radar until he enrolled Dean in some school in Minnesota, only to move again (and again, and again) throughout the kid's childhood. Several reports by neighbors and motel owners to social services in regards to the boys being left alone, bruising noticed at school, almost always Dean, but each complaint either wasn't followed up, or by the time it was, the Winchester trio had long since left town.

The trail goes cold, though Henricksen and his men had been able to pick up various locales the Winchesters lived for a few months at a time, mainly through one of the boy's school records (he was surprised at the grades they got, moving around so much). Then in 2001, the younger brother, Samuel, is accepted into Stanford on a full scholarship, and Dean and his father drop off the grid. John stays that way but Dean, come October 2005, rises when he visits his brother in Palo Alto in time for _his_ girlfriend to mysteriously die in a fire that to Booth, seems eerily similar to the one the boys' mother died in in 1983. Startlingly, Booth notices it's the exact same date- November 2nd. Here Henricksen's notes (his profiler) state that perhaps one of the boys (they lean towards Dean) killed the girlfriend.

From there the trail gets sketchy again- sightings or reports of the impersonation of law enforcement officers or similar are listed with two young men matching the Winchester boys general descriptions are listed, Henricksen noting when the classic car of Dean's (sweet ride, Seeley thinks, '67 Impala, hardtop) is caught on gas station cameras or traffic lights (he can't help but wonder how much time and manpower Henricksen used tracking these boys- and even then, a lot of it was conjecture).

Then, in early March 2006, Dean is captured and killed, whilst apparently committing one of a series of kidnapping/murders in the St Louis area. No mention of brother Sam, but Dean is positively identified. Autopsy records, reports from the arresting officers, and full, Technicolor photos are found, and Booth carefully goes through each one. No doubt, the young man in the autopsy photos with his chest cut open, recovered bullets laying in a kidney tray on a table beside the gurney, is identified as one Dean Winchester.

A couple of months later, and Henricksen connected the boys to a case of a serial killer family (the thought just sickens Booth) in Hibbing, Minnesota. As far as Henricksen could figure (with reluctant or dead witnesses), one of the boys (Sam) was kidnapped, and the other (Dean) teamed up with a local cop. Not much else could be discovered and the boys, once again, aren't heard of for a while.

Skip forward to October, 2006 and the boys are arrested in Baltimore by the local P.D on suspicion of murder for Anthony and Karen Giles. However, Sam manages to pull a Hilts on the local cops (Detectives Diana Ballard and Pete Sheridan), and escapes. Not long after, whilst Diana, after visiting with Dean, leaves to look for Sam, Sheridan come sin and, against protocol (and common sense) takes Dean out, presumably to transport him. Reports get a little sketchy (Booth notices this is a trend where any of the Winchesters are concerned) but eventually it seems Sheridan is discovered due to a necklace. The boys charges in regards to the Baltimore crimes are dismissed as what Sheridan did come to light, but (apparently) during Sheridan's capture, the Winchester brothers escape (again).

Some hard questioning reveals Diana is supportive of the pair (Henricksen's profiler assumes this to be some kind of Stockholm variation or something, which to Booth doesn't make sense), even going to the lengths of trying to find out more about their case, stating it simply doesn't make sense, something about the dates not matching the crimes they were under suspicion of. Booth makes a note of that, and reads on, his coffee left cold on his desk.

Skipping forward once more to January, 2007, and the file finds the boys knee deep in trouble in Milwaukee. Apparently bored of crimes such as grave desecration, theft, credit card fraud, kidnapping and murder, the boys (according to Henricksen) try their hand at bank robbing. Witness statements, however, say that the two brothers were not (at least initially) the ones who locked up the bank, but a 'big guy with curly hair' later confirmed as the one the SWAT team shooter killed. Another 'anomaly' as Bones would call it is the case of the almost twins. The case of a young woman- well, two, one alive, one dead (supposedly killed by one of the boys). According to autopsy reports the dead woman and the live one were identical (there's no way they're two people, the coroner had stated, yet they were (clearly)). The live woman states that the 'hot guy' killed her 'evil twin' and that she never had a sister, or any sibling for that matter.

December 2007 finds both Winchester brothers arrested by Henricksen in Colorado. Henricksen, just hours before his death, announces them to have died in a helicopter explosion. Just hours later, what is officially described as a 'gas explosion' kills whatever remained of Henricksen's team and anyone else in the jail.

Early May 2008, and Dean drops off the map completely- but his brother, apparently driving around in the Impala, doesn't. Reported to be drunk and disorderly a few times, a couple of public disturbances. Booth thinks on the disappearance of Dean for six months before he turned up in D.C while he continued to flick through the files. Then, in November, Sam drops off the grid completely and Dean is back.

Which brings Booth to his present conundrum. The elder Winchester brother had been picked up, for, of all things, trespassing. Apparently the officer responding noticed the startling similarity of him to the 'wanted criminal' on one of the distributed profiles from almost two years ago and took him down to the station, where they ran his prints. Obviously, they'd had a hit (well, several) and Dean was passed onto the Feds, dumped off in interrogation room 103 of the building, where he still sat. The question was, what did you do with a guy who was dead twice over? _Could you even arrest a dead guy?_

Sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, Booth put down the file from Hell and leaned back in his chair, feet swung up onto his desk as he mulled things over.

After several long minutes of thinking things through, he knew what he had to do. Gathering up the file, he headed out the door.

* * *

Booth arrived at the Jeffersonian to find all the squints- plus Caroline and Sweets, whom he'd taken the liberty to call, knowing they could both help on this, awaiting them. Once they were all seated on what he'd come to label the 'team table' equipped with coffee or whatever drink they preferred (today Ange had a super-sized slush puppy), Booth sat the file (and all its numerous photocopies he'd had done) in front of him, taking a moment to get things straight in his head.

"What is it Booth? We just finished a case, do we have another already?" Bones asked, always direct.

"Chill, Bones. I'm getting there, I just don't know how to do this."

"Cherie, if you don't spit it out already I'm going to whop you over the head" Caroline grumbled warningly.

Booth sighed, rubbing his fingers along his temple. "Okay, look, I want each of you to take a file and read through it- carefully. Every last bit, you hear me? Then I need you to tell me what you see."

"This is gonna be one of _those_ cases, huh?" Angela asked knowingly, reaching for a file with one hand, leaning her drink towards her and taking a big slurp at the same time.

Booth sighed again, something he seemed to be doing a lot of since receiving the case, and motioned impatiently to them, "Just read the damn file, ok? Please?"

Grumbling, the group does so, and soon the only sounds heard are that of flipping pages and the odd mutterings. Booth got up to go get a coffee, muttering to Bones that he'd be back soon enough.

* * *

Three hours later, and the group seemed to be on the last legs of the file- they'd taken him seriously, at least, and read through carefully. Part way through, Ange had gotten up and given everyone a pen and pad of paper, and they'd all been writing notes since.

Some time later and Hodgins and Bones, the last ones to finish, put down the last pages of the rather thick file.

Drawing in a deep breath, Booth asked, "So, whaddya think?"

"It's bullshit, man," Hodgins stated with his usual certainty. "I mean, the facts don't line up with the case at all- this Henricksen guy ignored cold hard facts, dude. I know you hate to hear it, but this, _this_ my friend," Hodgins said, waving the thick file in his hand, "_This _is a conspiracy, it's gotta be. I don't know how else you'd explain it, man."

Booth sighed, rubbing his temples, something he appeared to be doing more and more since he was handed this case.

Cam spoke up next, "I don't know about the conspiracy part, but Jack's right- the facts don't match up. I mean it's well disguised, but they just don't. Take the Baltimore case, for instance- on the first murder they wanted to pin this Dean guy on, there's cold hard proof he wasn't even in the _state. _Please, _please_ tell me this is a joke, Seeley."

"Can't do that Camille, the Director himself gave the case to me- to _us_ because of our 'high level of work' and 'numerous resources' at our disposal," Booth said, using air quote marks.

Brennan frowned, confused, "Why now?"

"Because Henricksen and his whole team died in Colorado, and the director handed _us_ the case _and_ Dean Winchester is currently being held in room 103. He's been there since some locals caught him trespassing and recognized him from one of the old wanted fliers."

Silence reigned for a brief moment. "Well then what are doin' here, Cherie? Go see the boy! And get back to us, y'hear? And you call me if he turns out to be a knife-wielding psychopath!" Caroline Julian demanded, giving Booth, who was now standing, a shove towards the stairs.

"Right. Bones? Sweets?" Booth called, waiting for the other two to catch up before they left. "We'll call you guys when we figure something out, k?" And with those last words, the trio set out.

* * *

Exiting the elevators, Booth led Bones and Sweets to the observation room for room 103.

The sight that met the three, however, was not what any of them had been expecting. Before them sat a young-looking man with deep purple bruises beneath his eyes, stubble along his jaw line as though he hadn't shaved recently and shadowing along his face. The dirt on his clothes and scuffed, worn jeans simply added to his haggard, defeated look. He looked completely spent, exhausted as though he hadn't slept a wink in a long time. But that wasn't the worst thing. When the young man looked up towards the one way glass, unnerving the three observers as he (impossibly) stared right at them, they couldn't help but look at his eyes. Full of bone-deep weariness, swimming with guilt and grief and sadness, none of them could take their eyes from his for a long moment, before Booth diverted his and cleared his throat, breaking the other two out of their reverie.

"Well, that's certainly not what I was expecting after reading Henricksen's files," Booth muttered, the other two nodding in agreement.

Sweets continued to stare at the man whom he knew was a few years older than he was. "He looks like he hasn't slept properly in weeks. And look how hyperaware he is- he clearly sensed us, even though we're separated by one way glass, so it's impossible to see us, and the walls are almost soundproof, yet he obviously knew someone was there. Amazing. That's not all, either- see the line of his shoulders, how he holds them loosely, but at the same time tense, ready for action- it's the same posture that you, Booth, take on when you go into what Angela calls 'warrior mode'. It's more subtle though, but I don't know if that's a result of his clear state of exhaustion or the fact he knows he couldn't do much where he is now, or if he's simply too depressed to care," Sweet ended, casting a rather concerned glance at the shackled man.

Booth 'hnned' for a moment before making his decision. "Alright, listen up. I need you, Sweets, to stay in here, while Bones and I go in and talk to the guy. I want you to watch him- carefully. Even if the Director hadn't said to keep this on the down low- which he has- after reading the file and seeing those tapes, I would've anyway. But the fact remains, we gotta figure out what to do with this guy. C'mon Bones," Booth steered the scientist out of the room, closing the door before opening the one to room 103.

* * *

As they entered, Dean looked up, assessing both of them with a hardened, weary and all too familiar gaze Booth couldn't help but recognize, pausing a little longer on Bones' face before continuing. It was similar to the one he himself had developed after years of being a sniper with the U.S Army Rangers, but he'd never gotten it to the level this guy had. It was like he'd fought wars for decades longer than he could have, considering his age. In mere moments, he'd sized them both up and seemingly made his decision about them if the slight self-nod meant what Booth hoped it did.

Booth coughed once, grasping the files in hand as Brennan remembered to close the door before they both sat opposite the young man they had been staring at.

"Dean Winchester? My name is Special Agent in charge Seeley Booth, this is my partner-

"Doctor Temperance Brennan, right?" the young man interrupted quietly, his head once more hanging low, his voice scratchy, but soft at the same time, as though he wasn't used to using it much. Another contradiction Booth noticed.

"That is correct, yes. How did you know who I was?" Brennan asked, curious, but wary.

The younger man shrugged slightly, glancing quickly up at the both of them, before returning his eyes to the table. "Saw your name on a book once. It had a picture, too," he added quietly before his eyes darkened with a grief so obvious, so overwhelming that you could almost reach out and touch it.

Booth frowned mentally as he watched the younger man, who was furiously trying to blink back tears and swallow what he assumed to be a sob whilst trying to maintain the façade of being fine, trying to figure out where he fit. The file had painted him as a smart ass, flirty, reckless almost psychotic killer, who orchestrated crimes that were beyond degrading and horrific. It depicted a callous killer. The person before him looked nothing like that. Booth's gut was saying that not only was he not responsible for the murders he'd supposedly committed, but that he was anything but psychotic. He looked almost like the guys who'd come back from fighting overseas having lost all their buddies, with nothing and no one to turn to.

Brennan looked confused, glancing at Booth before returning her gaze to the man opposite her, who was finally managing to get himself under some kind of control. Letting out a shuddering breath, he spoke.

"My- my bro-brother…. Sammy," the man stumbled and choked on the words, but continued, "He li-liked your book- the one set in Canada or something? Said it proved you didn't skimp on the truth, even in your b-books, that you were, were a real scientist or somethin'. He-he'd probably be giving you this puppy-eyed look right now, firing a million questions, y'know?" Dean said, choking on a laugh-turned-sob, stuttering on some words as he held back the grief that seemed to be his constant companion since he didn't know when. He attempted to smile at the pair opposite him, but couldn't, so he returned to looking at the table, watching his morphed and muted reflection on the steel surface.

Brennan looked at the young man before her, replying, "Thank you, I appreciate that."

Booth took over when Brennan had finished, clearly unsure of what else to say. "Do you understand why you're here, Dean?" Seeley asked, holding the files in his hands as he tried to coax the younger man to look him in the eyes.

Dean complied, and though his posture remained slightly slumped, as though held under a great weight, Seeley could see the almost military posture the younger man would have were it not for that weight. "Yeah." He spat out a bitter, weary laugh, "I have some idea."

Booth attempted to find something to talk to the younger man about before he gave up and simply frowned, thinking. Coming to a decision, he looked at the steel table before him, frowning contemplatively about how he was going to do this exactly. Getting an idea, he quickly stood up. "Would you excuse us for a moment, Dean, I need to go talk to somebody." The young man shrugged a little. "I'm not in a rush to go anywhere." He said, and in that moment, Booth could almost see the witty young man he'd watched briefly in the interrogation tapes.

"'Kay, thanks. C'mon, Bones. We'll back in a bit."

* * *

As soon as they'd shut the door, Brennan spoke, "What are you doing, Booth, we're barely in there two seconds and you're leaving?"

"Bones, Bones, listen for a minute ok? I just- -sigh- look, I don't know. I need to give Caroline a call and talk to Sweets. Just wait a bit, ok?"

"Is this another 'gut' thing?" Brennan asked slipping a glance to her partner as she dialed the prosecutor's number on her phone.

"Yes, Bones, it is. Now come on."

* * *

_...some time later..._

* * *

"So whaddya say, can we do it?" Booth asked eagerly, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Sugar, you know what you're asking?" Caroline asked, in her usual 'you're being impossible' voice.

Booth just grinned hopefully.

Almost an hour and a half later, Booth whooped in success while Caroline rolled her eyes when he hugged her, Sweets standing nearby with a grin on his face, Bones standing next to him looking satisfied.

"So we can go now, right? No more questions or nothing?"

Caroline nodded, pushing some papers into the agent's hands. "Cherie, you can do what you like, but not before you show me who I just spent all that time on the phone fighting for."

Booth nodded, sobering up, before motioning with his hands. A little while later, Booth, Bones, Caroline and Sweets had arrived at the interrogation room. The FBI agent led Caroline and the other two into the observation room first, just like before, but only Caroline looked confused. Booth shushed her, saying, "Just, have a look first, ok?"

On the other side of the glass, Dean could be seen, slumped onto the bench seat tiredly, head drooping for a moment as he gave into sleep momentarily, before jerking up suddenly not long after his eyes fully closed, his breath rushing in and out until he calmed himself down, eyes wild. It was clear now how exhausted the young man was, and all four of the rooms' occupants looked concerned.

Sweets was intently observing the man through the glass, tallying up everything he could see, trying to figure it all out.

"Cherie, I am glad you're so bone headed sometimes. Now lets go down there and get that boy out of here."


	2. Chapter 2

_**From The Land of No Return**_

_**2.**_

_"Cherie, I am glad you're so bone headed sometimes. Now lets go down there and get that boy out of here."_

Booth nodded, grinning at Caroline as she pushed at him to get him moving. He was- not that he'd let them know- proud of what had quickly become his family (not that he'd admit that, Gordon Gordon be damned)- and how they'd all banded together over this kid- man- _guy_- Dean Winchester. It had taken a lot of work- especially on Caroline's part- to argue the case to the director, and, indeed, it took the Director reading parts of the file that Henricksens' team had constructed before he agreed it was one hell of a screw up at least- something they couldn't afford going public after the conspiracy thing with Deputy Director Cullen just passing into their rear views now.

But he knew it was the right thing to do. The fact the whole team was behind him just gave him a great feeling. Grinning at the three people before him, he stepped forward.

When Dean turned his head to the sound of the door opening, he wasn't expecting four people to come traipsing in. Recognising the FBI guy- Booth and Dr Brennan, Dean gave a nod of acknowledgement to both of their greetings, turning to look at the two new people with tired eyes. Silently, he was thankful they'd come back after so long- he'd been starting to fall asleep no matter what he did, and one thing he did _not_ want to do was close his eyes anytime soon. Everytime he did… well, it wasn't pretty.

"Sorry about the wait, Dean. Had to get a few things arranged before I could talk to you again," Booth apologized, noting the minute look of relief that passed over the younger man's face on their entrance. He knew that look to, welcoming anything that would stave off the nightmares- the memories- just a little longer.

"No problem," the slightly husky voice replied, "just me an' my buddies, here," the younger man replied, lifting his hand and feet out and up a little to show off the shackles.

Booth grinned a little at the slight humor the guy had shown. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Guess you'd be wanting 'em off now, huh?" he asked, dangling the keys a little before he reached over to the man.

Dean looked surprised, then suspicious, then thankful, the expressions flying over his face almost too fast for anyone to notice before he spoke. "Thanks, but why are you doing this?"

"Well, we- our team, that is- you can meet the other squints later- went over your case. Long story short, it doesn't ring true, so, I got Caroline here- he said, waving a hand at the prosecutor- 'to have a look at it aaaand, after all that, we decided you didn't need to be kept in a cell while we sort this thing out. So, thanks to Ms. Julian over there, you're coming home with us," Booth announced proudly.

Dean frowned, "Let me get this straight. You get Henricksens case, I assume because he's dead," the younger man stated slowly, guilt flickering across his face, "you go through the file, decide, what, 'gee this doesn't make a lick o' sense' and just decide to unlock the cuffs and let me out of here? No offense man, but the last time someone _else_ undid my cuffs, he tried to kill me to cover up his dirty little secrets" Dean rumbled out, eyes flickering angrily in reminiscence.

Booth sighed, "Look, Dean. I know what happened with Baltimore PD, but this isn't like that. Your case doesn't make sense- I mean, hell, you've been officially announced dead more than once- by government officials,- I'm not even sure we could charge a 'dead' man. But, until we get this sorted out, what's the sense in you sitting in a cell" Booth offered, hoping to get the younger man before him to see reason.

"Even with the possibility I might be a psycho serial killer with a graveyard fetish?" Dean offered up, a glint of humour returning for a moment.

"Yup."

Dean looked at the people in front of him, absently rubbing his hands where the cuffs were as he sized up his options. He could a) refuse to go anywhere and sit in an empty cell til they either convicted him or let him go, b) go with these guys and escape (to where? His mind asked him) at the first possible chance or c) go with them and see if they really _could_ work things out, or at least drop the charges. A clean slate would be majorly handy.

Weighing his options, he made his decision.

"Ok then."

The drive in the SUV was a slightly uncomfortable almost silent one, with Dean sitting in between Sweets- who kept doing this concerned glance Dean figured all shrinks must develop, only weirder- and Caroline, who simply looked out the window, barely sparing him a glance, though her stern visage slightly disturbed him, reminding him greatly of Missouri and her wooden spoon.

Finally, they arrived at the Jeffersonian Institute- where the rest of the 'squint squad' as Agent Booth had called them were apparently waiting.

All Dean could think of when they entered the building and were waived through all the security measures, was that this was frickin' weird. Seeing all the gadgets and history, however, reminded him of Sam, and he swallowed his grief yet again, something he'd been trying to get a hold of since that Crossroads bitch took him from Dean after the angel, Castiel had fought for him and pulled him from Hell.

Bracing himself, he walked between the four people up the stairs, readying himself for more geeks, thinking Sammy would've probably been in his element here.

When Hodgins saw Anegla's eyes light up like it as Christmas, he was groaning mentally before he even heard what followed.

"Oh. My. God. He is _Hot_."

Uh-huh.

"I mean, take away the whole walking dead thing, but _damn_ that is one fine body."

She just didn't know when to stop, did she?

Leaning over a little, Hodgins also looked at the four climbing the stairs, focusing on the one in the middle. Casting his eyes over the younger man, he noticed the dirty clothes, beyond tired face and slumped shoulders. _Now_ he could see why Booth had asked for their help in convincing the director (and everyone else) to let him take Winchester out of the custody cells.

He also had to (very reluctantly) acknowledge Ange's glee over his…. Good looks.

He was slightly tempted to point out he was yet another potential criminal she was jonesing over, but let it go, especially considering the whole bombshell bomb tech thing...

Cam had made her way next to Angela, and the two women were quietly drooling over the younger man climbing the stairs slowly towards them. "He is a hunk" Cam acknowledged quietly.

"Mmm," Angela agreed, "but he looks so sad. I wonder what happened?"

"That is what we're supposed to be finding out, isn't it?"

"Shh, here they come."


	3. Chapter 3

**From The Land of No Return**

_**3.**_

_Cam had made her way next to Angela, and the two women were quietly drooling over the younger man climbing the stairs slowly towards them. "He is a hunk" Cam acknowledged quietly._

_"Mmm," Angela agreed, "but he looks so sad. I wonder what happened?"_

_"That is what we're supposed to be finding out, isn't it?"_

_"Shh, here they come."_

As soon as they'd reached a more private room, Booth made the necessary introductions. "Guys this is Dean Winchester, Dean, _this_ is the squint squad" Booth said with a grin at their exasperation, causing a shadow of one to appear on the younger man's haggard face.

Angela rolled her eyes, stepping forward from her place net to Jack and Cam. "What he means is I'm Angela Montenegro, forensic artist that'- she said, pointing to Jack- 'is Dr. Jack Hodgins, resident bug and slime guy, Dr Camille Saroyan pathologist and coroner extraordinaire and finally _Dr_ Zack Addy, Brennan's old grad student" Angela said with a smile that, whilst genuinely friendly as was Angela's nature, also cried "_helloooo hot guy_", shaking Dean's hand.

Dean cast his eyes upon each person as Angela introduced them, nodding to Hodgins when the man did a quick wave and nod in his direction, shaking Cam's hand when proffered, giving the kid- Zack- a half-grin/grimace- _jesus he reminded him of Sammy_, and Hell if that didn't bring up things he'd rather not think about right now.

"Uh, hi. So, uh, thanks for the bail out I guess. Gotta tell you, this is pretty new," he said, trying to grin, but, as had been usual lately, it just didn't seem to take too well.

"I can believe that," Hodgins said, grinning, "We've read the file Henricksen compiled, man."

Dean honestly laughed at that; though with a layer of remorse and guilt at Henricksen- who had turned out to be not so different from him- the file was something he'd had a look at during one of their jail-stays and Henricksen's 'chats'. "Yeah, quite a read, huh?"

"My favorite part is the whole body-double theory for your… clearly exaggerated death" Hodgins exclaimed.

The others started talking about the file- _his_ file, and Dean let the noise drown out, leaving him bewildered, exhausted and pretty damn freaked out. He didn't have a phone to call Bobby or Ellen, was alone, surrounded by a federal agent and people who work with him to solve murders and whatever the he…eck else they did _(would he ever be able to think or say the word 'Hell' without those flashes going through his head?)._

The group, through all their chatter, and despite the contents of Henricksens' file, these… people had made it clear they didn't think he was guilty, and be damned (he gave a small, bitter chuckle at that thought) if he knew what to do.

Booth watched as the squints surround Dean for some time before turning to talk amongst themselves about what quite easily was the weirdest case they'd been handed thus far- including the whole pirate/treasure thing. He watched as the younger man flicked his eyes over those present, before doing frequent sweeps of the area, as though waiting for someone to leap out at him. He took in the slight tremble that had taken over his hands, the darkening circles around the eyes, increasingly slumped shoulders, and yet still the kid seemed determined to not even relax a little, all the while looking like he was about to drop. _Time to get him outta here_, Booth thought.

With that, he took the few needed steps and brought himself to the younger man's side, noticing Bones following him, sandwiching Dean in between the two of them, neither noticing Sweet's smile at the action.

"What's say we pack this show up for the night, uh?" Booth proposed loudly, getting somewhat reluctant nods from everyone, "Winchester, as technically, you're still in my custody until we do _something_ with this 'case' –he said, using air quote marks- 'you'll be coming with me" the FBI agent finished, gaining a tired nod from the man beside him.

Eventually the group made their way outside- Sweets leaving in his sedan, Zack and Hodgins going off together, Angela dragging Bones with her to… _somewhere_, Caroline taking off in her little car, leaving Booth and Dean to make their way to the dark SUV awaiting them. Jumping into the vehicle, Booth turned to Dean. "Pizza or Burger and fries?"

The younger man looked confused for a moment, then sadness washed over his face. Taking a breath, he replied, "Pizza. Pizza's fine," swallowing thickly.

Booth eyed him, concerned for what had happened to make this man- who in video and on audio recordings sounded so strong, certain and cocky- even when he had no reason to- so – broken, was the only term the FBI agent could think of that fit. Sighing mentally, his instinct telling him there was so much more to this kid- and his 'case' than he could ever guess, Booth wheeled out of the parking lot, getting Dean to dial the pizza place he usually ordered from so the pie would be ready by the time they drove by.

Pulling up out front of the pizza parlor, Booth jumped out of the car, leaving his jacket behind and quickly paid for the pizza before walking back to the SUV where he'd left Dean to wait. Once he opened the driver's door, he tossed the hot boxes to the passenger and jumped in, starting the vehicle up once again, this time headed for his place.

Sitting down at this guy- _Booth's_ table, watching as the man trotted over to the fridge to grab a couple of beers, popping the lids of before passing one over, Dean can't help but think how freakin' surreal this all is. I mean come on- Demon bitch taking Sam, Dean all alone, Henricksen dead, army of demons and who knows what else (and Dean knew there were other things…) out there, waiting. He gets slipped up _trespassing_ only to land himself with an FBI agent with an army of _scientists_ who apparently all agree there's something 'wrong' in his 'case file' and that he isn't guilty of what he's been accused of, and now he's sharing pizza with the man.

_Freakin' pizza_.

When Dean let out a heart felt laugh, Booth saw a flash of the man he'd seen in the tapes- before whatever had happened took the light from him.

"So kid," Booth started, ignoring the half-assed glare Winchester sent his way at the term, "how exactly do you get mixed up in what you're in? How do you get to where cops and feds think you're some axe wielding, grave robbing psycho?"

"You see the tape from Baltimore?" Dean asked cautiously.

Booth nodded slowly, not liking where this was going.

"Apart from the whole walking on beaches crap, _that_ is why. And how."

"You're not seriously saying you expect me to believe you fight… _monsters_, are you?"

The look on the younger man's face said it all.

"I think I need some help with this" Booth stated, pulling out his cell phone.

End Chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**From The Land of No Return**

_**4.**_

_When Dean let out a heart felt laugh, Booth saw a flash of the man he'd seen in the tapes- before whatever had happened took the light from him._

_"So kid," Booth started, ignoring the half-assed glare Winchester sent his way at the term, "how exactly do you get mixed up in what you're in? How do you get to where cops and feds think you're some axe wielding, grave robbing psycho?"_

_"You see the tape from Baltimore?" Dean asked cautiously._

_Booth nodded slowly, not liking where this was going._

_"Apart from the whole walking on beaches crap, __that__ is why. And how."_

_"You're not seriously saying you expect me to believe you fight… __monsters__, are you?"_

_The look on the younger man's face said it all._

_"I think I need some help with this" Booth stated, pulling out his cell phone._

When agent Booth had started to go for his phone, Dean reached out a hand. "Uhm, hey, I – I know I probably totally freaked you out but man, I can barely keep my eyes open now, and I'm –_sigh_- I'm not sure I could really do much good for a night time interrogation, so if you're not gonna toss me in the nearest crazy hotel can this wait til morning?" The younger man implored tiredly, rubbing his brow at the end as if to attempt to rid himself of the headache that had plagued him for hours _(days?)_ now.

Booth took in the tired- no, exhausted visage of the younger man before him, and agreed "Yeah, kid, no worries," surprised at the stunned but very grateful look cast his way _(with eye contact, which inwardly he was pleased about. Kid didn't look like someone who'd ever dodged eye contact before, and the down and defeated look was so disheartening to see after viewing the sassy, smart mouthed interview tapes) _and offered to give the kid something for the headache that was obviously still in force.

Dean gratefully accepted the Tylenol, gulping them down with some milk the FBI agent had given him, relishing the feel of the cold glass against his skin.

After handing the kid the glass of milk and Tylenol, Booth wandered back to Parker's usual room when he was here on weekends- racing car bed and all, and swapped the sheets out. He figured Dean hadn't had a great time of it, and a good night's sleep would surely do him some good- on a real bed _(and, even with the dodgy file of Henricksen's he didn't imagine Dean had had too many nights in a comfortable bed, if the record of dodgy motels and 'nowhere nights' where he'd obviously crashed in his car were right. So he swapped out the sheets, turned back the covers and grabbed one of the big bath towels and a spare set of sweats (why hadn't he remembered to ask about the kid's stuff? It was probably wherever his car was)_ for the kid to change into.

"Hey"

Dean looked up at the greeting, putting the glass he'd been rolling in his hands down. "Yeah?"

"Listen I got Parker- that's my son- I made up his bed for you. There's a towel and a set of sweats in the bathroom- you wanna take a shower before we hit the sack?" Booth offered, giving an encouraging smile, so like the ones he remembered giving Sam anytime he knew the kid wasn't up to chuff, but needed something that wasn't his usual tease'n'poke routine that it made his breath catch in his throat.

Swallowing _(damn, but he seemed to be doing that a lot lately),_ he nodded, thankful for the agent's forethought.

"That'd be great, Agent Booth, thanks."

"Just Booth"

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to call me Agent Booth, kid. Just Booth, or Seeley, if you want" the man offered, grimacing a little at his own first name.

Taking a breath, offering a nod with his reply, "You can call me Dean then."

Grinning, Booth waved his arm toward the hallway he'd returned from, "Shower, then bed. In the morning we can have that talk- just me, or, if you don't want to go over and over it, I can call some of the others- or the whole squint squad if you want. They're all gonna have to hear your side one way or the other, before we can see what we should do with you, but whatever you want."

Dean smiled; actually smiled at the agent's kindness. "Thanks, man. I- Is it ok if we don't go back to your interrogation rooms for our 'chat'. I-" he petered off; unsure of how to explain the intense discomfort he had with the steel decor of the room which caused so many flashbacks.

"Sure, kid. I can call everyone over here for breakfast or lunch, even dinner, if you want, tomorrow?" Booth offered, feeling compelled to help the younger man who was so obviously lost.

"Yeah, yeah okay."

"Sweet."

After a brief moment of silence, the two men moved off- Booth to his room, Dean to the bathroom, getting ready for bed.

Neither knew their peace wouldn't last for long.

Booth wasn't sure right away what had woken him up. It didn't take long though. Small, quiet noises- fear, distress, pain- came from down the hall, his first groggy thought being 'Parker' before he remembered his son was with Rebecca- norm for a weeknight, and that he had another guest entirely. "Dean" he murmured, whirling out of bed and trotting down to his son's room, pushing the door open to let some of the hall's light in.

What he saw made his heart ache. Silent tears rans down the younger man's face as he tossed on the bed. Before booth could make it all the way over, the younger man cried out and shot up, and anguished, pained, "No! Sam!" leaving his lips as his eyes opened, wide, fearful, heartbroken. Reaching the bed, Booth sat down, grabbing the younger man's shoulders, barely stopping the reflexive swing tossed his way.

"Hey, hey easy kid. It's me, Booth, remember?" he spoke, softly, not letting the younger man's shoulders go, rubbing one arm unconsciously like he did with Parker when he woke from a nightmare.

Some time later, Dean seemed to come to himself, realising where he was, and who he was with. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he tried to turn away from the older man- embarrassed over the fact he'd obviously woken him up, and that he hadn't removed himself from the man's grasp earlier as he blinked back tears and tried to talk around the tightening of his throat.

"Sorry, man. It's stupid. You can go back to bed now. Sorry," the litany came out, familiar from his stay with Bobby and Ellen.

Booth frowned sadly at the younger man's dismissal of his state, staying right where he was. "No, kid, it's not. Look, I know you only met me today, but it's not stupid, and- I'm here, to talk to, if you want. Or do whatever you need, okay? I was a sniper for years and a cop after that. Bad memories come with the territory. You wanna talk about it?"

Dean risked a glance at the older man, shocked. No one, not even Bobby or Ellen had offered that, not when they'd had so much else to deal with too, and he understood. But even before- before... there had never been anyone to offer what this guy, who didn't even know him and would probably end up throwing his ass in jail, or, worse, a loony bin, had just offered. He stared, not realising how his breath was coming in pants, faster and faster, or how Booth had continued to rub his arms in an almost hug. Tears welled in his eyes and he choked out two words. Two words that, until that moment he'd not said with such realisation.

"Sammy's dead."

Sammy? Oh crap. The kid's little brother was dead? Booth's thoughts raced a mile a minute. Mother, father, now brother, all dead, his entire family. No wonder he looked so heartbroken. For all that he annoyed the crap out of him and caused him a fair heap of trouble sometimes, he didn't know what he'd do if Jared died. "Oh, kid, I'm so sorry" he said quietly. Those few words broke the younger man's tenuous hold on his emotions.

"'S my fault. S'posed to protect him. My one job, and I screwed it up," the kid whispered brokenly, tears rolling slowly down his face as he turned to Booth, finally.

"I screwed it up."


	5. Chapter 5

**From The Land of No Return**

_**5.**_

_"Sammy's dead."_

_"'S my fault. S'posed to protect him. My one job, and I screwed it up," the kid whispered brokenly, tears rolling slowly down his face as he turned to Booth, finally._

_"I screwed it up."_

Booth didn't know how long he sat there, perched precariously on the edge of Parker's bed, having increased his hold on Dean, the younger man finally giving in to heart-wrenching sobs as he repeted his litany of 'Sammy's dead' and 'I screwed it up'.

"Oh kid, I am so, so sorry" the FBI agent murmured as he held onto the younger man, rubbing his hand up and down as the sobs continued. He didn't know how long he sat there, trying to give comfort where he knew there would never be enough, Seeley tried to think over what he'd learnt that evening (now, it could've been early morning for all he knew, he didn't want to risk disturbing the kid just to look at his watch). Looking down he realised the younger man had finally cried himself to sleep, gripping onto Seeley's shirt the way a frightened child does after a nightmare, chest still heaving slightly every now and again, a sign of how much turmoil the kid had been in, still was. Not wanting to wake him up with too much disturbance, Booth shuffled the younger man over so he could lean against the padded head of Parker's racing car bed, keeping his arm wrapped around the younger man, who was now (more comfortably) leaning against him, barely stirring with the shift.

Booth woke to find himself in the same position as he'd fallen asleep- seated next to Dean, his legs stretched out, the younger man clinging to his side like a small child. Feeling a pang of empathy for the younger man beside him, Booth slowly extricated himself, leaving Dean to curl up more, thankfully still asleep- God knows he could use it- leaving Booth free to slowly leave the room, almost completely shutting the door except for a crack left open just in case.

Walking near silently down the hall, Booth grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom, hoping any noise made wouldn't wake the kid up. After showering, the agent made his way to the kitchen, grabbing his phone as he walked by. Dialling in one hand and pulling out the makings for breakfast with the other, Booth listened as the phone propped against his shoulder rang before being picked up. "Morning Bones"

Dean woke feeling more rested than he had in a long time. It took a moment for him to realise where he was, and another to remember what had happened the night before. Feeling his stomach churn over what Booth could do with the information (would he hold it over him? He hadn't seemed like the type, but trust was admittedly not Dean's default setting).

After washing up, he followed the voices. Coming into the FBI agent's kitchen, he found himself greeted by the sight of Booth wielding a spatula, flipping pancakes to Foreigner.

Turning to slip another stack of 'cakes onto the serving plate, Booth greeted Dean casually, "Hey. Pancakes okay?" he asked, wiping some of the unease off the younger man's face just as he'd hoped to.

"Uhm, yeah, thanks," Dean replied, feeling thankful that, for now, at least, Booth wasn't about to ship him off to someone else because of what had happened the night before.

Minutes later found Dean sitting across from the FBI agent at his breakfast bench, pushing his fork around his plate, which, when he didn't serve himself, Booth piled high with pancakes and fruit, pouring glasses of orange juice and milk for the both of them.

Booth watched the young man across from him as he ate, concerned. "Bu- Dean you need to eat," the older man coached, catching himself before he called Dean 'bub' as he often called Parker. After last night, Booth found himself feeling protective of the younger man before him, having seen for himself the depth of his grief and pain, and wanting to be able to help him, hoping he wasn't beyond help. He watched as his comment made the man before him swallow, a sad twitch of the mouth following.

"You sounded like I always did when- when Sammy wouldn't eat" Dean said, barely keeping his voice steady, but feeling the need to tell this man about Sammy- his little brother, as he'd been unable to talk to anyone else since... since then. "When he was little, and he'd get sick he'd – heh, he'd just stop eating, wouldn't even eat Cap'n Crunch, or jello, or even that stupid alphabet spaghetti you can get, y'know? And I'd be there, trying to get him to eat sayin' c'mon Sammy, you gotta eat" Dean said, a wet laugh finding its way forward as he remembered.

Booth smiled sadly, silently wondering where John- their father- had been, before prompting, "So, did it work?"

Dean looked up from his syrup soaked pancakes to give the man across from him a small smile, "Sometimes"

Booth gave a small grin in return, "How about now?"

Taking a deep breath, Dean returned the smile, if a little shakily, "Yeah, yeah, maybe."

Booth grinned, pleased with the progress- even this small amount- he'd made with the kid, and turned back to his pancakes. "Good, 'cause you're gonna need everything you've got when we meet up with the squint squad today. They've had a whole night to think up questions, and let me tell you- they are relentless."

He knew that what happened last night was simply the tip of the iceberg to what Dean had been through- anyone with eyes could tell that- but it was a good start. Maybe by the time they'd finished with this case, he'd have gotten to the bottom of it all.

Lance Sweets was confused. Not only that, he was happy to admit, he was more than a little bit freaked out. After going over the file Booth had given to each of the team (he still got a small smile when he was included in the 'team', or 'squint squad' as Booth often called them), he found himself at a loss. He had two options with this case- well, maybe three, but two immediate ones. One- he could assume, that, for all its faults, the file Henricksen's team had compiled was largely true, meaning he helped release a murdering grave robbing psychopath from FBI custody and left him with Booth. Two- the file was complete crock (bull, bunkem hooey) and _monsters were real_.

Neither option was desirable, and both left him feeling worried and uncomfortable, because the man he'd met yesterday- he couldn't see him as totally crazy, out of touch with reality (his third undesirable option), or a psychopath who enjoyed skinning and or beheading people and robbing graves and banks with seemingly little discrimination and disturbingly varied methodologies.

Which left him, really, with monsters were real and the broken man only a few years older than himself was one of the few who were doing something to save people from them, if the interview transcripts were to be believed.

"Wicked scary."

Jack Hodgins, sole heir to the Cantilever group, rubbed his tired eyes. He'd initially gone home the night before, dropping Zack off at his garage, only to find he couldn't sleep. So, he'd decided to use the time to go over Dean Winchester's case file.

What he found was unbelievable- even for him.

Shtrigas, Demons, Djinns, ghosts, shape shifters, vampires, werewolves. The transcripts he read of the Baltimore interviews shed light- and, heaven help them all- made sense of the otherwise confounding cases in the file.

Un-freaking-believable.

There weren't too many times Temperance Brennan- genius, forensic anthropologist and best-selling author- couldn't figure something out, especially a case. But this one- this case that had been handed to them through Booth by one of the top people with the FBI- it had her completely confused.

The case notes made little sense, the interview transcripts even less.

For the first time since his acquittal, Temperance Brennan called her father.

"Dad? It's me, Temperance. I need your help."

After Tempe had helped him get of the murder charges for Deputy Director Cullen, Max had been attempting to heal the rift between himself and his children- the rift between himself and his daughter being the largest and most difficult.

Considering this, he was surprised _(yet pleased)_ when she called him early one morning out of the blue.

It was nowhere near as surprised as he'd be when he learnt why she'd requested him to meet her at Booth's place.


	6. Chapter 6

**From The Land Of No Return.**

**6.**

"So you called me here because your partner here is housing a supposed grave defacing, bank robbing, meant-to-be-dead criminal? One who's been on the FBI's wanted list numerous times? And is officially dead? Honey, you sure do pick your moments" Max Brennan commented, eyeing the young man who was seated on the bar stool at Booth's kitchen bench, a mostly empty plate in front of him as he nursed a glass of milk.

"Yes. With all of the anomalies in the case and Mr Winchester's apparent criminality I believe your past, as a criminal on the run and your experience in living on the fringes of society may come in use in determining the validity of the case." Ever the practical person, Temperance hadn't spared any feelings in her reply, getting a wry look from three of the people present.

"Outlaw, honey. I was an outlaw" Max insisted, eyeing the young man as he gave him a grin. He'd seen the looks Booth was giving the supposed criminal, ones filled with concern. Casting his own eyes upon the kid, he could see why. Max was no stranger to a tough life, but it looked like this kid had been put through the wringer more than once, and he couldn't be any older than his Tempe.

"Anyway," Booth interrupted before Bones could go into a spiel about the technicalities of what her father had been, "it shouldn't be too long before the rest of the squints are here. Bones, Max, do you want to start going over what you know before they get here or wait?

Brennan eyed Dean carefully, giving him the same assessing gaze she placed upon remains in her lab. She noted the dark circles beneath his eyes, less apparent than they had been the day before, but still prominent. She watched as Max, her father, gave the young man his own calculating look. She had been surprised to note the care with which Booth was taking with the younger man, noting similarities to how he was when he had Parker. She would definitely have to question him on his behaviour, wondering what had happened overnight to make him act almost paternal toward the younger man.

xxxx

It wasn't long before Bones and Booth went off to a corner by themselves, leaving Dean with Brennan's Dad, apparently. Eyeing the older man, the young hunter took in the open stance and friendly eyes, something he was completely unaccustomed to seeing in someone who'd apparently been on the run as an 'outlaw' as the dude had proclaimed.

"So, you're an outlaw, huh?" Dean asked, wanting to focus on something other than the fractured thoughts in his head.

Having had some time this morning thinking about things, the young hunter realised he was touched (if embarrassed) by Booth's treatment of him. However, he was more concerned that this group, who'd apparently been handed his case to solve in a 'once and for all' kind of way, would find out that now he was as cracked as some of the stuff in his file made him out to be. Since Hell... things had not been easy. Flashbacks, a fear of fire he'd never really had before, even with his memories of the burning, intense heat from the night Azazel took his mom away forever. He felt like he had no time to regroup before he had to continue on. He'd just got back, dealt with the disbelief of his return, for both himself and those who knew he'd been taken to Hell, before Sam had died. Castiel had shown up somewhere in there too, spouting about god and finding his 'Father' and wanting Dean's help. Bobby, Ellen and other hunters also wanted a piece of him, and while he knew the older man and woman seemed to care about him, it was overshadowed by the increase in supernatural activity in areas. He felt like his feet hadn't even had the chance to hit the ground before he was running. It's what had led him here- escaping the constant demands of hunters and angels alike, trying to gain some solid ground.

The older man before him grinned. "At least someone acknowledges my outlaw status."

Dean offered the man before him a shadow of his real grin, still too tired to constantly try to keep his mask in place. "So, how long?"

"Almost twenty years, all up. Most of those on the edge, keeping off the radar. Last few were around here keeping an eye on Tempe and Russ, my boy, cleaning up a mess some asshole started years ago. Now I'm a free man, thanks to these kids," Max replied, tilting his head towards the pair away from them.

Dean raised a brow, contemplating the man who, in a way, had lived just as long as he had on the edge of everyone else's world. Realising the length, he deduced that Max would've had to have left his kids (Tempe and Russ?) for at least some of those years.

"Must've been hard, leaving your kids behind like that, right?" The younger man asked, tilting his head softly towards Brennan, watching as Max's eyes softened with affection that made him recall the times he'd seen his Dad with that look, causing his heart to ache. No one would be looking at him like that anymore, he knew. He was a true orphan now- no mom, no dad, no little brother. As much as he loved Bobby, he knew the man couldn't be what he wanted, needed. Bobby had had his own family once, and lost them, which tied another bond between them, but not the one Dean secretly yearned for.

Max swung his gaze from his previously estranged daughter to the kid before him, noticing the longing hidden in the hazel-green eyes, amongst all the grief, pain and heartache. "Hardest thing I ever had to do. Tempe's mom and me, we had to leave them behind after a robbery went bad."

"You were a bank robber?"

Max grinned at the questioning look, the hint of life and curiousity in the gaze. At least he wasn't too far gone. He knew from the looks Booth had given the kid, that it was one of the agent's concerns. Whatever had happened last night, and he had his suspicions, it seemed to have forged a connection between the two young men, and Max had a feeling the one before him would need it.

"Yep. Though I gotta tell you, it had all gone smooth before we were pretty much press ganged into working with this group. We were more white-collar thieves than robbers."

Dean passed the man a small grin at that, nodding. "No guns?"

"No guns."

Even though Dean had been raised with knowledge of firearms, and he loved the few pieces he was sentimental over, he never enjoyed the harm they could do, only the fact they could save someone's ass, maybe even his own. He'd known that his Dad, and, later, Sammy (and god, this about him _hurt_), had been more interested in killing the demon that took mom and Jess than necessarily saving people. Not that they didn't save people, he'd just known it wasn't always their first thought; like when Sammy had been pushing to search for dad rather than help some poor supernaturally-plagued person. Or when Dad pushed cases onto him or another hunter when Sammy was at college, too invested in tracking down potential leads on his wife's killer.

Dean always tried to cut them both slack, knowing he didn't have quite the same loss (though mom was _his mom_) as the pair. However, even being raised knowing of monsters, Dean always preferred to look at the 'saving people' side of things first. To begin with, it was because he was a kid, and he liked the idea of being a hero (even if it was only in his head). But as he grew older, and he recognised the pain he could spare people by keeping them in the dark about monsters, and saving them from them, he wanted to do it just for that. Sam never seemed to understand his brother's need to help. He, and even John, had always thought Dean wanted to just be a hunter, that he didn't want 'apple pie normal'. It wasn't that, though. Dean didn't think normal sounded bad. If he was truly honest with himself, he'd dreamt of the scene the djinn had shown him more than once over the years.

No, he did what he did so other people could live those lives.

Shaking off his reminiscences, Dean nodded to the older man. "I can see that."

"See what?"

Oops. Turns out he'd been thinking longer than he'd realised. The bug guy (Jack?) had arrived, and so, as he hesitantly returned the grin he was given, had the kid, the one who made his heart burn as his mind superimposed a young Sam. "Uh, not using guns," he blankly replied as he noticed Max standing beside him now.

"Seriously, I'd have thought you'd be all for weapons" Jack said in a questioning tone.

"He means my, er, earlier days, Hodgins" Max interrupted, knowing that any answer Dean could give would make him uncomfortable. He was beginning to get a good read on the kid, he thought. He could see now why Tempe would want him here, and thought perhaps even Russ could be a good addition later on. Maybe give him some understanding a little closer to his age? Whatever the kid had going on (and it was a doozy of a story, regardless of what panned out as truth and exaggerations), Max knew having someone in your corner, or even just likely to understand a bit, meant a lot. He felt his heart warm even more as he realised that perhaps that's what Tempe was doing, in her socially awkward way.

"Ohhh, right right. Yeah, I getcha now." Hodgins grinned at Dr B's dad. He kinda thought the older guy was pretty cool.

"Yoo-hoo, knock knock, amazing artist with baked goods and hot chocolate at the door!"

The room seemed to lift as Dr Brennan smiled and swung the door open to greet her best friend, lifting some of her burden and ushering her into booth's home in her authoritative (assertive?) manner.

"Hi, sweeties. Oh, Max hi!" The enthusiastic woman hugged her friend's father, 'You know, I thought Brennan might bring you, aren't you lucky I'm so wonderful I got hot chocolate for you just in case?" the tall woman asked, smirking in pleasure.

"That's sweet of you, kiddo" Max said, squeezing her in thanks, and smiling.

"Is this everyone?"

"No" Booth replied, "I'm waiting on Sweets and Caroline as well."

"What d'you mean waiting on us, cherie, if you had any observational skills at all you would have seen that both Dr Sweets and myself have arrived" the strong woman declared, bustling her way into the room, a grinning Sweets tagging along behind. "Ms Julian and I met after parking, Agent Booth" Sweets explained for the bewildered man, who had been bustled right out of his own kitchen as the women handed out the hot beverages and opened the boxes and bags Angela had brought, unloading the pastries onto plates for everyone.

Turning to their 'case', Sweets smiled at the man only slightly older than himself. "Mr Winchester, good to see you" he greeted, noting the improvement already in the other man's complexion.

"Dean, please. If we're not in an interrogation room, I'd rather not feel like it" the man offered with a slight grin, still obviously not like his former one on the videos Sweets had seen, but a fraction better, and a good sign.

Sweets had felt a little conflicted at first, being so immediately concerned with a potential criminal's well being, but after re-reading the case, he simply felt that eve though the man was obviously guilty of credit card fraud, he'd been accused of several things rather unjustly, which cast a whole shadow of doubts upon the validity of anything in the case file.

Sweets felt that the closer they looked the more the file would unravel, and now he just hoped they could do right- by the law, but more importantly, by the people involved in all the cases, the man before him not least of all. He felt a little overwhelmed- they always seemed to catch the big, complicated, and, at risk of sounding like Hodgins, conspiracy-inflicting type cases. Blowing out a breath, he gave an easy smile to Dean. "Sure, Dean. I'm Lance, by the way, or Sweets, if you prefer."

Dean nodded back, "Lance" he stated.

Lance grinned widely at that; it wasn't often now that someone involved in his work called him by his first name, mostly co-workers used his title or last name, like Booth and Dr Brennan, and while he liked the formality for respectful reasons, it was nice for a change. He noticed that with his response, the man opposite him seemed to get a little brighter. _Interesting,_ he noted to himself.

XXX

The rest of the morning went in a similar, somewhat relaxed way, considering the topics of some things discussed. While the team had decided the initial focus of the case would be to sift fact from fiction in the existing file using 'just logic', and disregarding anything supernatural, there were questions asked towards Dean that touched on those topics. Mostly, though he was feeling a sense of gratitude that he was being left out of the harder stuff for now. It was a relief to not have to be in the hot seat just yet.

Booth, along with most of the team to certain degrees, sensed this relief, and made sure to be considerate towards the younger man. Zack initially seemed to cause Dean some distress, and Booth knew this was because of the similarity in ages (and even hair, to a small degree) to his now deceased younger brother, Sam. He recalled the night just gone, and how broken the young man had seemed. For now, though, he was holding himself together pretty well, and the atmosphere surrounding the team actually seemed to help him relax just a little.

Max had taken Booth aside quickly and quietly when dean had gone to the bathroom earlier, murmuring his thoughts and questions to the agent. The concern Booth had gained overnight was now shared in full by Bones' dad, he knew, and Seeley appreciated the paternal feelings being shared. Max seemed to understand a little more the behaviour Dean might have, which, given his time on the run, wasn't all that surprising.

Blowing out his tension in a long breath and rolling his shoulders, Booth hoped this case would get a little less stressful at some point.

He had a feeling, though, that it wouldn't.

**End Chapter.**

Readers!:_ I am *so* sorry it's taken me so long to post an update! I know lots of you have been following, and probably thinking 'not another halfway done fic' but it's not, I promise, even if the WIPs have been a long time without update. Review, give me a kick in the butt, say hi. =) ~readersdigest_

_All the reviewers; THANKS! Thank you so much for reviewing with your comments, compliments and suggestions. I have tried and will try to reply to all of you, but unfortunately I can't really reply to all the anonymous/not signed in ones, but thanks to all of you- you're awesome :-)_


	7. Chapter 7

**From The Land Of No Return**

**7.  
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**A/N: Apologies. One day, my life will be normal, and I will mentally die of boredom and be able to write whenever I want. Until then, I send huge thanks to all of you who review and encourage me. This story is getting out of hand, so please send suggestions with what you'd like to see! happy holidays and New Year love to you all! h'n'k, readersdigest.  
**

Lunch was take out brought back by Hodgins and Max, who had been selected by way of Angela to bring back 'nourishment and goodies' for the group who were still inhabiting Booth's home.

Max had suggested quietly to Booth, as he noticed the young man whose case they were working on lagging that perhaps they could move to the living area and seated Dean on the long couch Seeley had bought to fit his frame himself, ensuring the young man was comfortable in the hopes he could catch some shut eye before lunch. If not, Max thought, he would make sure of it himself after lunch. The panda eyes the boy was sporting told him he needed to catch some shut eye, and he knew, a kip here or there was good for catching up without creating problems with a normal sleeping pattern.

Booth had nodded and quietly murmured his agreement, but not without pointing out to Max that their charge may not be willing to sleep with an audience, so to speak. Sweets, having overheard the pair murmuring to each other, stepped in, agreeing with Booth. "I agree. While he may seem somewhat at ease to the unknowing observer, if you look closely it's clear he isn't. I highly doubt, even with his exhausted state, that Dean would be likely to sleep in all of our presence" the young psychologist added, a concerned frown making its way across his face. Booth was always a little surprised at the amount of honest empathy the young man before him could exude with a look. His empathy and compassion were two of the things he admired greatly about the young man, even if he did find him a little irritating (okay, a lot) when in 'therapy' sessions with him and Bones.

True to thought Dean failed to sleep before lunch while the boys were out, though he did stay mostly on the long couch, with Angela hopping on next to him now and again and Temperance taking a seat once or twice as the rest of the group conversed with each other. Dean answered questions when asked as best he could, and pointed out obvious flaws in the timeline the team was working on to establish when all the events and activities piled into his case file occurred. If they could construct a solid timeline, Zack pointed out, it was possible they could rule out several issues simply by logic. As the brilliant young man worked, with the input of others, Dean added in memories of where he was at certain periods that he remembered, like helping out with the whole Katrina issue just before he'd first gone to ask for S-Sam's help finding their father when Sam was still in law school. Dr Brennan had been particularly keen on talking to him about what he'd done there, particularly since she had been down there herself at around the same time. She was intrigued as she'd gotten the younger man to talk, and asked about all the voodoo (houdon) that saturated the local culture and sub-cultures, and what he'd been there to do. Putting aside her belief in logic and science, she noted that what each of them had been there to do was remarkably similar, and said so, in her usual manner. The blush and stammering wasn't expected, nor was the obvious admiration the younger man had for her work. When he could push through his grief, and what Sweets had said he suspected was some form of post-traumatic stress disorder, the man before her proved to be quite intelligent and able to provide intelligent conversation on many different topics. Of course, discourse had been severely limited thus far, considering the minimal amount of time and Dean's character, but based on the data she'd accumulated thus far on the individual before her, she believed he would prove very interesting, once the case was investigated.

And providing he wasn't a psychopathic killer who dug up graves and tortured young women, of course.

Booth would never allow her to converse with someone like that.

XXXX

Dean had no idea what to think about all the attention being piled upon him. Sure, the team of scientists and Booth had been doing most of the talking and theorising between themselves, but it didn't mean they stopped talking to him. It'd been some time since he'd had to be around so many people, and like everything after Hell, it wasn't easy.

Surprisingly, it was the kid- Sweets, who keyed in on the discomfort. Or maybe not so surprisingly, considering he was a shrink, after all.

"You ok, Dean?" The brunette asked, eyes flashing concern under worried brows.

Dean cleared his throat, voice rumbling "Yeah, yeah dude. I'm fine, just a little too many people y'know?" he confessed, waving a hand tiredly at the group.

It was after lunch, and Sweets had chosen to sit next to Dean, curious and concerned.

"You look pretty tired man; maybe you should try and get some more sleep soon, huh?" Lance suggested, honesty radiating through his eyes.

Dean, who was unused to quite so much almost familial concern from someone so close to his age started a little, rubbing the back of his head, unsettled. "Uhm, ok, sure"

"Great!" Exclaimed Booth, who had been standing behind the pair for a moment now, clapping once and rubbing his hands together, giving a light grin to the two younger men who umped at his sudden speech.

Quickly, without any extra comments from the others still gathered around the dining table, Booth and Max ushered Dean to Parker's room once more, under the curious eyes of Sweets, who had opted to stay with the others than surround Dean.

Turning away from the forceful fathering the two older men were subjecting Dean to, Sweets spoke to the others. "So, how's this timeline thing going?"

Zack just groaned with Jack and smacked his head onto the table before him. "I was unable to create an equation which would make this much simpler, as there are simply too many conflicting points to quickly construct a timeline. Therefore, we've been left to do it manually, which means reading all these files and searching for dates and events. Then, even after we finish all of that, I still have to calculate travel times, distances and probabilities for every event which conflicts with another in order to rule out the impossible. Then we will have to construct the new edited timeline before examining points in further detail, not to mention Booth will likely have to question Dean on what exactly he was doing at each stage in order to determine what he believes is the truth based on his 'gut'" came the exasperated reply.

"Uh, ok, have fun with that then"

Groans answered him, as Dr Brennan made the statement "I find all of this quite fascinating. It is also very frustrating, however, given the completely unscientific and illogical manner in which the previous agents compiled their case files. Not to mention the conflicting witness statements Ms Julian has found as well as the brief analysis Angela conducted on the body from the St Louis case, where Mr Winchester was apparently shot and killed." Dr Brennan laughed briefly, "Which is impossible of course, as he has been clearly identified and is currently residing with Booth, here, in his home."

"I'm telling you sweety, the data matches. The dead guy in St Louis is Dean. But here-Dean is also Dean. It's like they're identical twins or something, only they can't be."

Jack groaned again, loudly, "Why couldn't this be a normal case?!" he exclaimed.

Everyone in the room stared at him silently.

"Yeah, okay, that did not just come out of my mouth."

End of chapter.


End file.
